Sorcerer's Stone
by poisonivy9675
Summary: Harry's the one on a dark wizard's kill list, he's the one who survived the killing spell; he's the one who's future was changed forever. Because that dark, dark night when Harry felt the curse of Avada Kedavra, the spell rebounded. That hopeless night of death, Harry was transformed as Voldemort disappeared. He turned from a one year-old boy... to a one year-old girl. (Fem!Harry)
1. Prologue 1

**This fanfiction is written/being written by crimsonteresa. Please enjoy and don't criticize too harshly on how the genderbending was done!**

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**PROLOGUE: FROM BOY TO GIRL**

Jasmine Potter huddled with her husband, Lucas Potter, clutched her baby boy to her chest. Something was coming; she could feel it in the tension of the air.

"Jasmine," Lucas whispered into her ear softly, "take Harry upstairs and make a run for it if you can. I'll hold him off."

"Lucas," she cried out, distressed, in return.

"It's all right, Jasmine, I'll be fine. Now go!"

Crying, Jasmine did take Harry upstairs. She squeezed her eyes shut when she heard Lucas yell unintelligibly, but continued to Harry's room.

"Harry," she said, "Harry, always remember. Momma and Dadda love you."

She cried out and there was no words that she could give to explain how sorry, so sorry, she was. The pain in her heart tugged her lips down while tears dripped down her face. It was terrible, this night, forcing the small family apart, even after they had worked so hard for happiness.

Sensing his mother's dismay, as all little babies and children can do, Harry also began to wail, tears trickling down his soft cheeks.

Lucas's yells brought Jasmine back from her despair and she set forth with a new determined face. If she was going to die, she would protect her baby.

She set Harry in his crib, kissing his forehead one last time before turning to confront the intruder. His face was handsome in a cruel way, and it only strengthened the red-head's desire to punish him for taking away her family.

"You will perish, monster, mark my words!" Jasmine shouted angrily. "It will be by the one thing that you desire but cannot have that you will fall!"

"Silly woman," the man chuckled darkly. "Do you not know that it is you who will fall tonight? Just like your husband."

If her resolve had not been so strong, Jasmine would have cried out from the pain that constricted her heart at that.

"Momma," came Harry's little voice, tearful, and suddenly she was the strongest woman in the world; she was a mother protecting her baby.

"We will see."

Those were Jasmine Potter's last words, as in the next second the man tried to kill her Harry, and she blocked the curse. Jasmine and Lucas Potter were both killed that night protecting little Harry.

"Momma," Harry cried out, being especially sensitive to feelings of life force. "Dadda..."

He turned to look at the stranger that was Tom Riddle, or Voldemort as he preferred. Tom looked down at Jasmine with evident revulsion, then kicked her limp body aside to approach Harry. Harry stayed quiet, as if he knew that what happened next would be important. And perhaps he did.

"_Avada Kedavra_," Voldemort whispered with his wand pointed at the toddler.

A flash of bright green enveloped the room as the magic went haywire. It bounced off of both baby and man repeatedly until it was caused to stop. The sender of the curse had disappeared, presumably as an effect of one of the magic's rebounds. Harry, meanwhile, was simply lying asleep in his, no, her, crib.

Harry Potter, son of Lucas and Jasmine Potter, was now the daughter that should not have been possible. But as Harry would find out throughout her new life, nothing is too impossible or unlikely for Harry Potter, and Harry Potter was never born for any sort of normalcy.

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**Alright! This is the prologue prologue, to give an idea of what this will become, and basically a feeler. Chapters are definitely not going to be this short, I just really couldn't think of anything else to put in this.**


	2. Prologue 2

**Disclaimer: **_**I do not own characters, places, or ideas that belong to Harry Potter, just the plot and any additional stuff I come up. All other credit goes to J. K. Rowling, the wonderful author that put Harry Potter into the world.**_

**PROLOGUE TWO: BEHIND CLOSED MINDS**

The sky was dark, and most houses were in the period of sleep that was pitch black nothingness. All, in fact, on Privet Drive except for one, or rather, 4. This house was on the outside exactly what you would expect of a typical family. The lawns were manicured neatly; the garden patches were organized just so, hinting at a woman's touch; the walls were fresh and the paint looked new; even the sidewalk seemed cleaner in front of Number 4 Privet Drive. So you would fully expect the family to be exactly the same kind of perfect average.

They were not, of course, otherwise I would not mention them specifically.

Inside the house lived a family of three, rather spoiled in their doings. The man of the house was Vernon Dursley, and a man he was. Often when agitated his face would redden and his bushy blonde mustache would twitch angrily. He was a quite simple and rounded person, used to having his way with things. His wife, Petunia Dursley, was almost the complete opposite. She had raven black hair, was skinny, and turned pale when angry. Petunia also had the fortune, and misfortune for others, of a long neck that came in handy when she was spying on her neighbors. But, like her husband, she was fairly used to getting what she wanted, although not always when. The third member of the little family was a one year-old child that was already taking very much after his father. Already, Dudley Dursley was spoiled rotten, so he was much too late to save.

Now, they do sound like quite an average family, don't they? But we have not reached what makes them stranger than they would have others believe.

Petunia had an older brother named Lucas Potter. They shared only their hair color. Petunia despised her brother, because Lucas was a wizard. It could have been partly because she was jealous, or perhaps it really had been that she had no fondness for thoughts of anything out of the ordinary. Even if it had been jealousy, though, her marriage to Vernon had decided away any thoughts of magic.

Vernon did not even know that Lucas was a wizard, only that he upset Petunia greatly, so Vernon's own mind was closed to the subject. It's ironic that they both cut Lucas out of their lives like that without knowing that each was doing so based on the other. And poor Lucas, well, he never met Vernon and the last time Petunia saw him was when he came home to visit and catch her seventeenth birthday, as apparently it was a big thing in the wizard world. His present had been her favorite, but she never said so; he never knew she didn't completely hate him.

This, all right now, is important. There is a reason I have told you seemingly trivial information. The bond between Lucas and Petunia was important, as it would forever influence Harry Potter's life.

On this dark night, Petunia was still awake and sat in the kitchen with the lights out. She had a strange feeling that something had happened, or was going to. Not hard to imagine, as things often do happen, but she felt that this happening related to her.

It was like this when suddenly all of the lights on the street went out, and Privet Drive became tenebrous. It had been one by one they went out, but Petunia had been zoning out and didn't notice the change until the last one went out. The loss of light did, however, stir her. She curiously walked to the window and put her spying skills to use.

Outside, Albus Dumbledore stood talking to Minerva McGonagall, and she turned away from him briefly to hide a tear. Watch as she did, though, Petunia could not hear them, so she slowly slipped the window open.

"-can't believe it," sniffed the old, gray-haired woman that was Minerva McGonagall; her normally perfect tightly woven bun was messy as were her normally cold grey eyes.

"It is hard to believe, yes," Albus, an old man with silver hair and beard both flowing past his belt, said gently, soothingly. Contrarily, his eyes sparkled in amusement behind his half-moon spectacles. Minerva, turned away as she was, did not see, but Petunia did.

"It's just... Jasmine and Lucas always seemed so invincible, and their child... Oh, Albus, he's only one!"

Petunia's heart and blood froze, and she zoned out of the conversation. _Lucas_, she thought, pale-faced, _his wife, Jasmine... child, Harry..._ Her thinking was disjointed and broken, but when she heard another noise, a loud roar accompanied by a rumble, she snapped herself back to the people outside.

A flying motorcycle drifted down, the roar growing louder until it stopped with a click as the rider landed the vehicle. The rider was a large, bushy-haired man, but more evenly proportioned than Vernon Dursley's roundness. It was Rubeus Hagrid, come with a bundle for Albus Dumbledore.

"Ah, Hagrid," Albus smiled cheerily. "Lemon drop?" he offered brightly.

Hagrid shook his head and jumped straight to the point, causing Petunia to start crying silently afterwards. "'S not true, right? Jasmine an' Lucas _can'_ be dead!"

The silver-haired headmaster nodded his head solemnly, brows completely relaxed except for a slight raise. Petunia looked away, cupping her face and trying to keep from crying out. A few minutes later, when the street lights outside came back on, she lifted her face again to see the street was empty.

Suspicious, and needing a distraction, the long-necked woman craned her head out of the window to look outside. To her surprise, she did find something out of the ordinary, but it was no adult this time. It was a little child on her own doorstep.

Suddenly frantic, Petunia rushed to the door, unlocked, and opened it without thinking of anything except for the child. When she picked the bundle up and looked directly into the baby's face, she saw features that made her gasp. It was Harry Potter in her arms, and Petunia recognized it.

Quickly she ran about, making preparations for the little boy desperately fast without pausing to think of the consequences. Harry was her last line to Lucas.

Soon, however, Petunia had to stop incredulously. Changing Harry's diaper, she had discovered that he was a she. It confused the ravenette greatly, but after thinking it over carefully, she came to a conclusion. Harry Potter was a girl, but would be known still as a boy. Also, Petunia Dursley would not be showing public affection to the girl, because Petunia hated the Potters.

This was her decision, and it was made impossible to go against the next day when she played it out with Vernon. But still, when Vernon had gone to sleep, Petunia snuck back to Harry's crib, which had at one point been Dudley's, and planted a gentle kiss on the child's forehead.

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**Okay, so it seems that there is some confusion on why Lily and James became Lucas and Jasmine. That much will be made clear next chapter if all goes as planned. Everything comes in a big circle that must be followed, but I don't want to spoil so I will explain at the end of the next chapter. Also, the last name stayed Potter and didn't go to Evan(s) (always forget if it's Evan or Evans) because Lucas took Jasmine's last name, which can be technically done. He didn't want Petunia to suffer from being so directly connected to him. Hopefully that made sense? If there are more questions feel free to ask. I will answer anything I don't consider spoiling.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-crimsonteresa via poisonivy**


	3. Chapter 1

**A/N: Sorry for slow update, this was super long and hard to put together...**

**Disclaimer: **_**I do not own characters, places, or ideas that belong to Harry Potter, just the plot and any additional stuff I come up. All other credit goes to J. K. Rowling, the wonderful author that put Harry Potter into the world.**_

**SNAKE HISSES "ESSSCAPE"**

Harry Potter is a heavy name. Harry herself knew it all too well, but not based off of what a more knowing person would think. Harry Potter was the name her aunt and uncle screamed and screeched, and it was terribly abused. For sure Harry knew it best, as she herself was abused.

It wasn't anything serious like you're probably thinking; she was mainly bullied. Most of the bullying came from Dudley, her cousin, and his gang. They picked on her constantly and made sure to catch her with a punch in the face that always snapped her glasses. Really, Harry felt bad for how badly the now-fragile pair of glasses were treated. The only thing holding the bridge together was thickly layered tape.

Other than that, the bullying came in the form of shunning. Harry was completely ignored for the greater part of her ten, almost eleven, years. Thus she had learned to hold her own conversations for entertainment.

Of course, we mustn't forget that Harry Potter is a boy. Even though he is a girl. If you have been paying attention, though, you will know why, but that matters not right here. The fact is that Harry did not understand why her aunt, Petunia, drilled it into her head that she must be, for all intents and purposes, a boy. But after many headaches following questions Harry just stopped questioning people. It was much easier to talk to animals or herself.

Animals, actually, tended to be very good friends; it was also a bonus that Dudley and co could not find her when she went outside. Even better, Petunia and Vernon didn't object to her wanderings.

Now we get to a particular day: Dudley's birthday. The day Harry hated most.

It started with Aunt Petunia knocking stiffly on Harry's door, leading into a little closet under the stairs, at 5-o-clock in the morning.

"Harry," she called softly, "you must get up now."

It was a sort of morning ritual on the first Saturday of each month that had never been explained to Harry in which she would be awakened very early by Petunia who would then give her a short hug and tell her to say nothing of it. Harry didn't at all understand why her aunt did that, but she went with it anyway; for someone like her, hugs were entirely too rare. It had made Harry start to dislike the thought of being touched in any way.

"Come along, Harry," Petunia said softly when Harry had roused fully and gotten up. She waited a moment for the girl to change from her baggy grey pajamas to loose jeans and a large green T-shirt.

The tall, skinny woman, already completely dressed with heels, flowery dress and all, awkwardly turned to lead her niece to the kitchen where breakfast would be being prepared soon. Walking in, Petunia had a sudden flashback to the day Harry had been laid on her doorstep.

"Harry, if an old man with long grey hair ever approaches you, do not trust him, whatever you do."

Confused, Harry tilted her head slightly. Her answer was a turned back. "Aunt Petunia..."

"What Harry?"

"How come I can't ask questions?"

"Because you won't understand the answers. Now, child, do help me with this."

Harry nodded silently and gave the topic rest. Slowly she fell into the rhythm of cooking with her aunt. "You pass that" was a common statement, and they worked around and with each other like a well oiled machine. After all, Harry had been cooking with her aunt for as long as she could remember. It was making breakfast early like this, though, that was best. With only Petunia awake no one yelled at her and Petunia was nice.

Thirty minutes later saw dinner sitting in the sink to thaw throughout the day and desserts in the fridge; lunch was going to be taken out somewhere and breakfast wouldn't be necessary for another hour, so that was the next task.

Harry smiled softly while she helped around. Even if the food would also be shared by her uncle and cousin it was nice to make food knowing the creators would get more than a testing. Fancy chef or no, she thought that her cooking was pretty freaking awesome.

When pancakes, waffles, bacon, and eggs were all laid out across the table and the table itself set with plate mats, plates, spoons, and forks Harry assumed her work was finished and started walking away to brush her teeth. However, apparently, Petunia thought differently. The skinny woman grabbed the girl's shoulder and gently dragged her to the living room.

"Sit," Petunia said stiffly. "We need to talk before they wake up."

"Okay, what about?" Harry questioned back without thinking. Despite Petunia's efforts to make otherwise the child was naturally inquisitive.

"Have you ever told anyone you're not a boy?" And it started. Harry's aunt seemed extremely overprotective when they were all alone and it amazed her that the woman could hug her and scream at her within the same hour sometimes.

"No."

"Has anyone asked?"

"No."

"Do you think that anyone might be on to your true gender?"

"No."

"Does any girl have a crush on you?"

"No." Harry fidgeted a little with this; it made her really sad that no one liked her.

"Boy?"

"No."

"Are you interested in anyone?"

"No."

"Would you tell such an interest the secret if you made one?"

"No..." Harry sighed and ran her hand through her short hair tiredly. She knew the routine thoroughly but it didn't get any less sad. At the end of it she was alone.

"Have you heard things about what girls go through when they hit puberty?"

"What? No."

Petunia sighed this time, slightly disappointed she was still tasked with the Talk. "Alright, last one. Would you ever be in the position of changing in a nonempty male locker room?"

"Aunt Petunia, it's summer. Not now. But I don't know about secondary **(equivalent to middle)** school..."

"With any luck, we won't have to worry about that, then. Alright, I know you're tired, and since we still have about thirty minutes go and catch some rest."

"Thank you, ma'am," Harry said softly before getting up to do just that. Original plan or no, sleep sounded wonderful just then.

She walked slowly and yawned tiredly. Even having done a lot since waking she still wasn't the early bird type and wasn't fully awake yet. Harry quietly opened her cupboard door and crept into her tiny bed, wondering if she would ever grow tall enough to feel cramped. Under the bright orange blankets and then into a light sleep she went.

Harry's body twitched every now and again as she quickly entered a dream.

_It was a dark, dark room, full of uncertainties and threats. The air was heavy but cold, causing goosebumps to arise on a little child's skin. The child sat in her crib, looking around her with wide eyes. A faint tint of green lingered in the air, along with the scent of smoke. It was the atmosphere of a recently passed battle._

_On the floor by the wooden crib was a body, eyes wide open and red hair splayed out. It was a woman, and her eyes were the same green of the child's; she would appear to be the child's mother. In her crib, the little toddler simply sat for a while, perhaps wondering why her mother was not getting up._

_"Momma," she breathed out, cheeks stained from crying. "Dadda..." When no answer came her eyes welled up with tears, and the little girl began to cry again._

_Her clothing consisted of a now wet blue onesie with darker blue airplanes. Around her, the room seemed decorated in a way that would lean towards what a little boy would like, contrary to the child's gender. That alone would say that something was wrong._

_Outside a voice called out, "Hello? Is anybody home?" for the front door of the house remained wide open, as it had been for almost an hour. Soon, more voices joined and conversations started. They asked what was wrong, and were answered with "I don't know."_

_Before long, people decided that they should look inside, saying that the family had a child and they should check if the family was alright._

_A deep rumbling came along that delayed that and a motorcycle that had been flying landed. The big, hairy man that had been riding it got off and pushed his way into the house with an, "Excuse me, pardon me."_

_He held his breath while walking past a man's body in the living room, but almost cried out when he finally made it up to the little girl's bedroom. A gust of wind that followed his entrance blew the toddler's black bangs, revealing a jagged scar that could be seen in the likeness of lightning._

_"Harry," he whimpered, but he quickly shook it off and picked the child up, wrapping her in a blanket to fight of the chill in the air._

_Minutes later saw the giant man back at the motorcycle with his additional passenger, and then flying over the town high up in the sky. The rumble of the engine put little Harry to sleep before long, though not before another tear could escape and slide down to her hand, which was curled up by her cheek._

"Wake up, wake up!" shouted a boy's voice, and in case that didn't work he started pounding on the stairs above Harry's cupboard.

"Shut up," Harry groaned as she rolled out of sleep. A thud signaled her roll had taken her out the bed as well. "Oof," she grunted.

Her door swung open and Petunia's face appeared; a smack also accompanied her as the door hit Harry's face at the floor. Her eyes watered and it looked like Petunia was about to coddle the child, but the woman was able to hold herself back.

"I'm up," Harry said unsteadily, then she climbed to her feet and rubbed her eyes while her back was turned; she waited to rub her nose until she faced the culprit. The door received a very harsh glare and it was surprising the hate waves didn't cause it to collapse or something.

"Warm up breakfast," Petunia ordered in a softer than normal voice before going back to the stern posture she held with Harry when the rest of the house was awake. "It's Duddy-kin's birthday today and it must be perfect."

"Great..." Harry returned sarcastically under her breath. She was already in the kitchen when Petunia called a "What was that?"

Once the food was warmed up and coffee made Harry finally sat down with the rest of the "family." She ate while watching Dudley complain about not enough presents and gorge himself on food. Everything was calm, until Dudley turned his blond head to look at his father and asked, "When are we going to the circus?"

Suddenly, Vernon in his white-ish polo and brown pants and Petunia in her violet covered white dress were looking at each other, silently communicating, and then talking, growing louder and louder.

"Blast that old man," Vernon shouted. "If he didn't have so many bloody pets he wouldn't be in the hospital with a broken leg!"

"Surely we can just leave the boy at the house," Petunia pleaded.

"And come back to see it on fire?! I think not!"

"Then should we bring him?"

"No! He would ruin everything!" Dudley, slowly catching on to the argument, butted in loudly.

"Oh, my poor Duddy-kins!" Petunia cradled the blonde's head in her long arms.

It took all Harry had not to burst out in laughter; as it was she snickered quietly.

"No, there's just no other way," Vernon stated resolutely.

This time both Harry and Dudley protested, Harry not wanting to be dragged along and anxious to just stay home and Dudley not wanting the "problematic cousin" to ruin his birthday. For once, they were on each other's side.

This did not make a difference, however, as Vernon had made up his mind. It was thus reluctantly decided that Harry would tag along with them to Pyro Circus. Nobody was especially happy, and Dudley sniffled pitifully every now and again, until the doorbell rang repeatedly.

Dudley immediately straightened out and rushed to get it. "Piers and Sier!" he shouted happily.

Once the door was open wider Piers, Siers, and Mr. Polkiss could be seen. Piers and Siers were twins, literally double trouble. They were the exact opposite of Dudley's large blond self; they were small, dark-skinned, dark-haired, and openly mischievous.

Mr. Dursley and Mr. Polkiss exchanged pleasantries, then the tall and skinny man left with, "Behave, boys."

Piers and Sier looked exactly alike, wearing their hair the same curly style, yellow tees, and brown shorts. Next to Dudley they looked dark and tiny, as Dudley wore a white shirt with tiny blue stripes and blue jean shorts. Nevertheless, the trio were famous and best friends. It was they who bullied Harry, for the most part.

The twins frowned minutely when Dudley told them in whispered conversation that Harry was coming, but grinned widely again when they heard where they were going. A circus with clowns is the best way to prove you're not afraid of anything, especially if it was Pyro's Circus.

"Alright boys, it's time to go." Vernon swept the trio along and left Harry to get a warning lecture from Petunia.

"Harry," the spindly limbed woman began, then paused until everyone else had gone to the car. "Be careful." She said it so completely serious that Harry was stunned for a moment. Indeed, her aunt was a lady of many colors. Harry nodded in response and after that both girls left for the car as well.

The car ride was uneventful other than Piers and Sier picking on Harry. They had been squeezed together in one seat, while Harry took the middle seat and Dudley his own. Legally, the green car should only hold up to five people, but circumstances had led Vernon to disregard that. The twins had proceeded to take turns flicking Harry.

When, fifteen minutes later, the car stopped, Harry was extremely grateful for the escape. Vernon paid for parking and then they all walked up to the entrance of the circus grounds. A sign said "Pyro, Po, &amp; Pyra's Circus."

"I thought it was called 'Pyro's Circus,'" Dudley said stupidly.

"It was short for this, my boy," Vernon answered the unspoken question. "Pyro is the oldest brother of the family."

After the title, the sign read, "Triplets Pyro, Po, and Pyra had fire loving parents, thus their names, and inherited that passion. It was strong enough that they formed a circus based upon the sole principal of flames. Everything that is shown was something inspired by or founded upon the idea of fire. Please enjoy!" The background of the sign stayed true to the story, showing three smoky silhouettes surrounded by fire.

"Whoa," Harry whispered, awed by what she saw as soon as she walked inside. While Vernon payed for the tickets she looked around, turning her head and body as far as humanly possible.

Tents flowered into existence; red, orange, yellow, pink, and white bled into each other. The effect against the pale gray sky made it seem like a flash of color against a world of black and white. Even the lush greenery around added to that image, because beyond the rope boundaries was a large parking lot connecting to roads.

The first tent they went into was Dudley's first and most obvious choice. The main show was being put on, with the three ringmasters leading.

"Ladies and gentlemen," called out a deep voice, attached to a tall, muscled, pale, shirtless body. The man was Pyro, and his hair was an amazing shade of red, accompanied by unnatural, cat-pupil blue eyes.

Next to him appeared another man out of the shadows in the center ring. They looked exactly alike, down to their deep purple Aladdin-styled pants. "We present to you," Po continued his brother's sentence.

Yet another person appeared, except this time female. She still had the same look, though, she just had added a chest covering that matched their pants. Her hair was also a lot longer, but other than that, the three were surprisingly identical. "A fiery show," Pyra finished. Her voice was even a fairly low pitch to match her brothers'.

"So if you would please-" Po started.

"Sit tight and enjoy," Pyro picked up.

Pyra ended it by flicking her hair a doing a spin on tip-toe with her right foot out at a ninety degree angle. To complete the intro, Pyro and Po imitated her pose, facing their sister on opposite sides rather than spinning, held their fingers to their mouths, and blew fire. It bloomed around her, and the audience clapped loudly as a result.

"That was awesome," Piers and Sier said together. As twins themselves, seeing an act like that at the very beginning must have greatly heightened their expectation.

Harry, meanwhile, was in heaven. Her face practically glowed in excitement, and her green eyes shined brightly. The presence of her bullies was completely forgotten.

The shows proceeded to amaze the audience in their intricacy and design, though Vernon still managed to scoff about the things kids wore nowadays. Tigers flamed into clowns with scary beauty, until the final act arrived, almost an hour having passed since the start.

The performers switched out to Pyro, Po, and Pyra again. This time, they were not alone. A long, golden colored snake was released into the circle, slithering back and forth in the cleared space before the triplets.

Harry froze when in the snake's hisses, she heard words. _"I will make you proud, mastersss,"_ came the soft, barely audible voice concealed in the hiss. _"The audienccce will be delighted with our show."_

The snake had ruby red eyes, making it seem like if it stopped moving it could be jewelry of some type; precious and deadly.

"Come," Pyro rumbled, bare chest puffed out. He spread his arms wide.

On his other side Po copied the pose and said, "To-"

"Me," Pyra finished the sentence and stood in between her brothers, arms stretching to connect with theirs.

The snake slowly slid across to Pyra's feet and started circling up her leg. She kept her head up and expression straight, identical to Pyro and Po. Slowly but surely, the snake slithered up to Pyra's arms, and then spread across the connected arms, until the head reached Pyro's fingertips and the end of the tail curled around Po's forearm.

A flute started playing, enveloping not only the snake and triplets, but the audience as well. The song drew them in, and everyone's eyes were glued to the center. Time seemed to freeze, for all except the clowns creeping in around the edges, entering with their delicately painted faces and bright colors. Some had stilts and long pants, making then tower over everyone, and some had instruments. The acrobats also entered in their sparkly dark blue costumes; the tiger tamers came riding the animals they trained, wearing striped clothes to match; a wave of green flooded in as the special presenters appeared, memorable for the way they told their stories.

The performers all gathered around, forming circles centered on their ringmasters. Clowns with instruments began playing accompaniment as the storytellers started; the acrobats and clowns on stilts combined efforts to provide a show spiced up by the tigers.

"A dark night," one storyteller sang. "Produced our effect," another continued, for this was how they did it, along with dancing. "The rainy sky - gave us our right - to burn out - the light." It was eery how their voices melded off of one another, adding in harmonies as well. "But our masters - they stayed strong - they helped us - carry on."

Harry looked around quickly at the audience to see them entranced; not even little children were crying out. Vernon and Petunia leaned against each other, Piers and Sier practically hung against each other, eyes and mouths wide open. Dudley had a stunned expression, like he had never shown before. The show was almost magical.

When it ended, the audience seemed to wake up out of a deep sleep. In the ring the performers flowed out, until it was just Pyro, Po, and Pyra again. The snake slid back along to Pyra, then down her body and legs and back into the hole it had been released from.

"Thank you!" Pyra called heartily.

"For watching!" Po continued.

"Our show!" Pyro finished.

Together, all three bowed deeply, and the audience stood and clapped their appreciation loudly.

"Let's go do all the other stuff!" Dudley shouted excitedly. The Polkiss twins were right with him, so much so that they forgot about Harry.

In fact, they weren't the only ones. The Dursleys had also forgotten about her, and that's how she was able to stay behind and sneak away to where she had seen the performers heading.

The sky seemed bright compared to the shadowy interior of the main tent, but Harry adjusted her eyes quickly and ran to where she saw the ringmasters.

Pyra's hair was swishing as she shook her head, apparently talking to someone with her brothers.

"My siblings and I," Pyro's deep voice said, "are doing nothing wrong."

"You are," a stern, female voice countered. Harry couldn't see her over the triplets' tall figures, just a glimpse of black.

"We aren't," Po argued, cat eyes squinting.

"Practicing magic in front of muggles is forbidden." The stranger stayed calm while her opponents angered.

"We are doing no such thing," Pyra hissed. "What we do is art, and they love it!"

Harry wondered for a second if they were all involved in something big and she should get away quickly, but fate decided for her when a clown tugged her by the back of her shirt to the center of the small group's attention.

"Who have we got here?" he asked, raising a painted over eyebrow. His face was one of the cooler designs, with eyeliner swirling across his eyes to the edge of his face, and his lips had a similar swirly pattern, the red blooming into a flower on his left cheek.

"What?!" Po asked, surprised.

"I think you were being listened in on," the clown smiled brightly, hazel eyes squinting.

"Now look what you've done," the revealed stranger said strictly. She was already tall but wore heels anyway, and the reason why Harry had only seen black was because she only wore black, and had black hair and eyes to go with.

_What a dark person,_ Harry thought to herself.

"But wasn't that your fault for talking to us in a public area like this with customers?!" Pyra bursted out.

"Anyhow," the all-black clothed woman continued, ignoring the red-haired girl, "we ought to take this child somewhere for the time being."

"What do we do about her?" Pyro asked frantically.

"Let me handle him for now, but you will take responsibility." The woman looked down at Harry and the clown, then said, "Just take him to the animal tent."

Harry didn't know what to do. She had potentially gotten into big trouble, and Petunia's only warning had been, "Be careful." She hung her head, eyebrows slanted depressedly.

"There, there, little one," the clown cheerily comforted her. "It'll be alright, old Snape isn't that bad. She just has a habit of playing the bad guy. Tis her job, y'know." His voice carried an Irish lilt that was somehow soothing, but Harry was not to be deterred from her self-deprecating thoughts.

The tent the clown led her to was fairly big, colored like fire as the other tents were. Inside, though, was not a performance, but cages and pens. Tigers, an orangutan, and the golden snake from the finale were scattered about in them. Seeing the snake, Harry rushed over, heedless of her earlier guilt and the surprised clown.

"What's its name?" she asked, excitement renewed.

"Sasha," the clown said, quickly getting used to Harry's change in attitude. "Anyways, just hang tight here, cause I've got a performance real soon." He waved, still smiling brightly.

"'Kay," Harry responded quietly, lying on her belly and cradling her chin in her hands as she watched the beautiful snake. Her shirt and pants folded around her thin frame and the clown walked out.

Harry's emerald eyes locked with Sasha's ruby ones. The precious crystal colors conveyed more than a human and snake would normally together; it was like they were connected by something more.

"Were you trained to do that trick?" Harry finally broke the silence and asked, completely comfortable. "Or do you just do whatever?"

_"My masssterssss tell me what to do and to pleassssse them I obey fully,"_ Sasha hissed.

Harry didn't even jump, although she half wondered if she were hallucinating. She often held conversations with animals, but it seemed that sometimes a few would answer; she hadn't figured out if it was really her imagination or not, yet.

"So you really like them, huh?"

_"My masssterssss sssaved me,"_Sasha responded. Her voice was silky, and her syllables flowed together like rippling water. She swayed her body so it seemed almost as if she was liquified gold.

Harry was once more entranced. "I wish someone would save me," she murmured sadly, more to herself then the snake in front of her.

_"Why do you need sssaving, child?"_ Sasha's tone was comforting, motherly, even.

Harry sucked in a deep breath before starting her story. She explained how her parents were dead and she lived with her only living relatives; how they treated her badly except for her aunt's occasional kindnesses when no one could see. She vented about how she was bullied and strange things happened around her, about her lightning shaped scar that seemed a taboo topic; about the fact that she had to pretend to be a boy. She even told of how her only friends were animals and she could only talk to them sometimes, like now.

_"I sssee,"_ Sasha hissed gently, still caring._"Perhapsss it is that the aunt wisshesss to protect you in sssecret. Perhapsss ssshe truly lovesss you, though the othersss do not. It would ssseem the bessst option isss essscape. Come with usss,"_ the snake offered. _"My masssterssss would help you."_

Harry felt loved in that moment, even though it was a snake and not a human; a living being cared about her.

_Momma and Dadda love you,_ a voice whispered throughout her head, like a ghost just drifting through.

"Thank you," Harry said so quietly she was barely audible.

"I hate to interrupt your touching conversation," a strict, and sarcastic, voice called out from the darkest shadows of the tent, "but I need you to come with me."

When Harry looked back, the woman the clown had called Snape was standing close, enough to have heard the whole conversation.

_I guess I could check if I imagined Sasha answering me, now,_ she thought calmly before the panic had a chance to settle in.

**.**

**Okay, as you can see, there is yet another person I have genderbended here. Snape is now female! But there is a purpose. I shall now explain a little of what is confusing many, because I don't think it will be a spoiler, but just in case:**

**SPOILER ALERT**

**Jasmine and Lucas (aka James and Lily respectively) have to be genderbent because I genderbended Snape. 'She' was genderbent because I want her to fit a certain figure to Harry that she never got the chance to have. (hint hint) And then the switched appearances for the genderbent couple is so that Harry will look like the parent Snape had a crush on in school (aka Lucas). Hopefully that is enough for now? Oh, and someone said something about Petunia having blonde hair in the book. Sorry about that incongruency, it's been a while since I read the books and movie images tend to stick with me better/longer than book descriptions. And that is it for now.**


	4. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:**_**I do not own characters, places, or ideas that belong to Harry Potter, just the plot and any additional stuff I come up. All other credit goes to J. K. Rowling, the wonderful author that put Harry Potter into the world.**_

* * *

**PART OF THE TRUTH**

'_Uh-oh...'_ was pretty much the only thing Harry could think. It was like her thought process was on loop.

The situation was a delicate one, and as so: Harry, female Harry that has to make EVERYONE think she is male, had slipped up with her secret while talking to a snake and it turns out that someone had been listening in the whole time. That someone just happened to be very stern looking, not an easy-going person that would brush it off or a caring person that would, well, care. In addition, Harry had been left behind by her relatives and was thus alone and at the mercy of strange strangers.

The lady in black had basically dragged Harry away from Sasha the golden snake and the animal tent into another with the three ringmasters, Pyro, Po, and Pyra. She was really graceful in her movements, Harry noted absently, but her beauty was that of a stiff businesswoman. She was a contradiction in that way, though her attitude matched her looks.

Harry had picked up that the lady's name, or at least part of it, was Snape, but she was too scared to ask. Pyro, Po, and Pyra didn't exactly help either, because they were too busy worrying about the trouble they might get in. The only helpful person Harry had met in the circus had been the clown before, who was not present.

"What is your name," Snape suddenly broke the silence and asked.

"Harry," the ravenette replied quickly, almost jumping.

The fiery colored material of the tent was brightened by the sun burning down from the highest point of the sky. The triplets' hair practically glowed in that light.

"Harry what?" the black-robed woman continued. One would think that so much black on the noon of a summer day would make her uncomfortable, hot, or even sweaty.

"Harry Potter," she quickly corrected her mistake and stated her full name.

The ringmasters gasped, but Snape merely said, "As I thought."

"You know me?" Harry asked before she could think, confused.

"Of course!" Pyra burst in.

"You're famous in the wizarding world," Po said more calmly, but still with the look one has when they meet a celebrity.

Pyro was the one to finish this time: "I can't believe we have the privilege of meeting you in person!"

"Be quiet," Snape commanded with an authority they all shrunk away from. "As you were lucky this time, you will not be forced to close," she continued threateningly towards the triplets, "but next time, I assure you, shall be different.

"As for you, Harry Potter," Snape spat out the name, "you shall come with me."

Once more Harry was dragged by the crook of the arm outside a tent by the lady in black, terrified and unable to think anything that wasn't random like, 'Whoa, how the heck did they get the trees in circles like that?'

That thought was actually legit, though, because the trees and other vegetation all appeared to line the grounds perfectly.

After what seemed like an hour but was probably less than a minute of being dragged, Harry finally mustered up the courage to ask a question. "Who are you and where are you taking me?" Two questions...

The woman stopped her brisk walk and looked down on Harry, literally as well as the other sense of considering oneself superior. "You will call me Professor Snape, and I'm taking you to a place where we can talk without eavesdroppers." She looked pointedly around them for enunciation.

"Why?" Harry decided she might as well keep talking if Snape was willing to answer questions. She now had the comforting thought that she wouldn't be eaten by blackness if she made so much as a peep.

"Because," the black-robed lady snapped.

The near surroundings slowly got leafier and bushier; more plants sprouted up that only made way for the path they were walking on, and tents stopped appearing.

"Er, how exactly do you know me?" Harry managed to say the question that had eaten away at her since she had gotten such excited reactions from the mention of her name.

"Hmph, as I thought, you haven't been told anything. I suppose I might as well, then..." Snape sighed grumpily. It was almost comical how Harry's expression went from uncertain to ecstatic. "What?" Snape asked, perhaps a little worried by the new glint in the girl's eyes.

"You mean you'll actually tell me something?!" She was nearly bursting with enthusiasm.

"I could just as well tell you you're going to die, couldn't I?" the black-robed woman huffed irritably.

"But you'll actually answer questions?" Harry prodded, eyes turning serious.

"Yes..."

"Then that will be the first time anyone did that for me," she explained.

Snape didn't say anything in reply, just kept walking, but she didn't need to. Harry could see it in her face; she was wondering what kind of life the young girl had experienced so far.

The day had darkened a bit when they finally stopped, proving Harry's feeling that they had been walking a good amount of time.

"Excuse me," Harry started uncertainly, "but won't being this far make it hard to get back before closing time? My aunt and uncle will be looking for me at that point..."

"Certainly," Snape said gruffly. "However, they will be informed you are staying with a 'friend.'"

"Oh. Does that mean you'll take me home then?" the child continued to question.

"Yes," the older woman said after a slight hesitation. "I will also be taking you to London, I suppose..."

"Why?"

"You are a very inquisitive child, aren't you," she stated.

"My aunt says that too, and that I shouldn't be. She says I wouldn't understand the answers to most of my questions, like why I have-" Harry cut herself off by slapping her hand over her mouth and coughing.

"Have to what?" Snape asked curiously, raising a brow and moving over to a clear spot in the grass to sit.

"I'm not supposed to tell," Harry said quickly. "Aunt Petunia said it would be bad if anyone found out."

"That you are female?"

The ravenette child looked around and "Shhhh"ed the other loudly. "Someone will hear you!" she cried out.

"Who? We're alone here."

Harry held up a finger to stop Snape and cupped her other hand around her ear. "Listen. Can't you hear the whispering?"

The black-clothed professor looked around not seeing anyone, but decided on a whim to listen to the child. Her breaths slowed, and the world grew brighter. She could hear her heart thumping loudly, but even over that was a rustling, shashaying kind of sound. The hisses that stand out when one whispers, chatter in unintelligible languages. The chirps of fledgling birds waiting for dinner, the "shh" of tails whipping against trees and bushes. Sunlight filtered through layers of leaves, making everything look speckled with shadows; hiding and throwing into light their audience.

"What-?" Snape whispered, seeing what she had never before in the scene. Foxes slinked around trees; squirrels fanned out with chipmunks and the winged animals at the tops of trees; badgers mingled stoically with wide-eyed lizards and squinting felines.

Harry practically gleamed, her smile was so bright, as she curtsied to the viewers like she was welcoming them. Her green shirt was pushed around her by the wind and she laughed at the feeling of it.

"See?" Harry said to Snape, knocking the older women out of a trance. "There're always listeners to whatever you may say. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but there nonetheless."

"Well," the professor said in a clipped sort of tone, "then I suppose it is a good thing muggles cannot speak to animals."

"What?" it was the child's turn to be confused. "What is a muggle?"

Snape sighed, her black brows creasing slightly. "A muggle is a human without magic."

And so the long talk began.

"Magic?"

"Yes. This world is actually full of magic that is hidden from muggles, who wouldn't accept it even if they saw it with their own two eyes."

"Then am I a muggle? It seems like a rather mean name."

"No, otherwise I wouldn't be telling you all of this. You are a wizard, or at least you should be. However, it seems that you are a witch."

"Can you tell me why I'm supposed to be a wizard instead?" Harry looked up at Snape with such hope in her green eyes that Snape had to turn away her own black ones.

"I'm afraid that I cannot, for I myself do not know why you are so."

Harry lowered her messy-haired head in disappointment, but quickly recuperated. "Then why am I a witch? I mean, why do I have magic?"

"It is because your parents had magic."

"Then wouldn't my aunt and uncle have told me?" the girl questioned suspiciously.

"They were supposed to, but it seems their hatred of magic lead them to not." For a second, it almost seemed as if the normally calm older woman was angry. Her dark eyes looked brighter, as if they were glowing coals.

"But I don't understand; what do wizards and witches do if they can't be acknowledged by normal folk?"

"Magic remains hidden through magic. The reason I will take you to London is to shop for school supplies, supplies for the most famous magic school there is: Hogwarts."

"But wouldn't people notice magic item shops?" Harry pursued.

"As I said, magic remains hidden by magic. You will see for yourself when we get to there."

"One more question," the green-eyed girl said hesitantly. "If my parents had magic, why did they die in a car accident?"

Snape breathed deeply for a few seconds before answering, "They didn't. Lucas and Jasmine Potter were killed by a dark wizard, and you were also meant to be dead that night."

"But why..?"

"For reasons you wouldn't understand. Your scar-" Harry brushed her forehead subconsciously "-is the proof of what took place."

"Then why didn't I die?" she demanded.

"The most common theory is that something went wrong with the spell, though I rather think it had more to do with your parents. They were by no means weak wizards, Miss Potter."

"I don't understand..." Harry said glumly, eyes a bit dim and shoulders slumped. She had a right to be disappointed, but she shook herself out of it quick enough. "When are we going to London?" she said with a happier face and a plan to make Professor Snape buy her food.

"Tonight. Right now, actually, if you're done with your questions."

By the stern look in Snape's eyes Harry could tell she knew of her intentions, but she smiled anyway. Life seemed pretty good, and she could ignore, for once, the fear of getting in trouble with her aunt and uncle. For once, she didn't have to worry about being bullied. It felt nice.

* * *

**Ok, ok, late again, I know, but it's not like anyone read it. I don't know why I even bother with this. Maybe I should just stop updating until someone actually reads the latest chapter. Comment your name if you have a story you're trying to get people to read, and I'll read it. Seriously, Marching Band season is nearly over, I'm not that busy anymore.**


	5. Chapter 3

**Right, so... I'll edit this later, it's too long for me to want to do now. If there are any horrifying mistakes just inform me and I'll get to fixing it up.**

**Disclaimer:**_**I do not own characters, places, or ideas that belong to Harry Potter, just the plot and any additional stuff I come up. All other credit goes to J. K. Rowling, the wonderful author that put Harry Potter into the world.**_

* * *

**DIAGON ALLEY**

Harry had no idea how they were going to get all they way to London.

Snape had stayed true to her word, and they had started walking back, but by the time they reached the circus grounds it was night and Harry was dog-tired. Petunia, Vernon, Dudley, Piers, and Siers had indeed already left, though Harry thought they would not have likely been very reluctant to leave her to another's care. Hardly any people were left, and even they were starting to be gently pushed towards the exit. No one seemed to notice the child in too big clothes or the woman all in black standing to the side.

After long moments of silence Harry decided she needed to ask. "How exactly are we going to get to London?"

"Ah," Snape said in an intake of breath, as if she had forgotten for a while their purpose. "We will be taking a bus."

"A bus?" Harry's shoulders sagged and she lowered her eyelids over her bright green eyes. Buses were not exactly known for being comfortable, so sleep was not likely to be an option. Especially not when she was such a light sleeper.

Noticing the young girl's reaction, Professor Snape wagged a finger in front of the other's nose, making her blink. "Now, I didn't say it would be a normal bus so don't be getting all mopey on me yet. If we're to get to London and back by tomorrow night we won't be able to use muggle means of transport."

Harry winced at the word "muggle," but she did cheer up. Something about being comforted by one such as Snape, a stranger that seemed inclined to dislike her, made everything suddenly feel magical. Perhaps that was partially because things were becoming literally magical, but the world just seemed a better place.

They walked together to the grassy parking lot outside of the circus grounds. After all of the cars had left and no stragglers were in sight, Snape reached into her sleeve and pulled out what looked like a decorative rod. Harry recognized it as a wand when the tip glowed as the professor held out her right hand. She nearly asked what the other was doing, but before she could there was a loud bang.

Seemingly out of nowhere appeared an outrageously purple triple-decker bus. On the window, in sparkly golden letters, it was labeled The Knight Bus. Harry's small pink lips parted in a gasp as the doors opened and a man in an equally purple suit stepped off. He looked to be about eighteen, with the scruffy face of one who hasn't shaven in a few days and hair that almost matched Harry's own untidy mop. His left ear sparkled with an earring along with his teeth when he opened his mouth and began to speak.

"This is Stan Shunpike here, your conductor this eve; welcome to the Knight Bus..." he paused a moment and scratched his chin thoughtfully. "We're here for emergency transport for any stranded witch or wizard, called if you just stick out your wand hand."

He finally looked at Harry and Snape, shrugged his shoulders, and ushered them aboard. "We're headed to London," Snape said rather professionally, taking a few foreign-looking coins out of a pocket that blended in with the folds of her robes.

"Alright," Stan said, then he guided them along the bus to a spot near the middle.

Instead of seeing chairs, Harry was astounded to see beds along the bus, with curtained windows and candles illuminating everything. There was a wizard towards the front asleep on a bed, muttering about pickling slugs.

With Snape and Harry seated on their own two beds next to each other, Stan continued on to introduce the driver as Ernie Prang. He moved up to the front in a spot behind Ernie and the bus started moving after a bang as loud as the first.

If the look of the bus hadn't clued Harry in to it having magical properties, its movement did. The street it appeared on seemed much too narrow, but everything in the bus's way jumped away and then back after they had passed it. Ernie, an old man that could be seen as an Albert Einstein with huge black-rimmed glasses, looked a bit too small for the wheel; his driving made it seem as if he hadn't quite gotten a hold on the activity yet. Harry found that she was no longer sleepy, and adjusted her position on the bed to look at Snape. She burst out laughing.  
Snape's face was even paler than usual and she clutched the bed so hard her knuckles turned white. The black-robed woman looked positively terrified, even with such a tough personality. Harry giggled so hard she had to grab her stomach because she had lost all of her breath.

What seemed only five minutes later but was probably more, the bus came to a halt surrounded by the tall rained-upon buildings of London. Harry felt that rather than the professor leading it was her, making her feel grown up. She didn't often get the opportunity to take charge. Sadly, it was a short-lived feeling because the ten, nearly eleven, year-old had no idea where she was going.

Snape revived herself and took the lead, not even bothering to look back and see if her charge followed. Where they stopped was in front of what looked like a dimly lit pub. The sign spelled out "Leaky Cauldron" in droopy letters, and inside there were scenes of people chugging beer or ale, waited on by a woman very able to sell more. What Harry saw when they walked in was almost completely different.

Chairs were set up around tables, creaky and worn but somehow stable, on a hard-wood floor. The customers sitting around were drinking, but they were now seen wearing robes and a few had pointy-tipped hats. They chatted with each other loudly, smiles big and ignorant of the two newcomers. The man behind the counter did notice them, though.

"Welcome. What can I do for you?" His voice was a pleasant baritone, and his face was that of a kind old man. Harry couldn't help smiling back.

"We'll be taking a room with two beds," Snape said in an authoritative voice.

"How long?" the bartender began the bartering. A minute later, it was settled that they would stay the night for twenty sickles, although Harry had no idea what those were. "Enjoy your stay," the owner said, eyes crinkling.

A draft entered the pub as a customer left through a back door, and Harry's bangs were swept back, showing her previously hidden lightning scar.

"Merlin's beard," the old man said, placing a hand over his heart. "It's Harry Potter." The shock on his face quickly turned to respect, and he bowed his head.

A customer heard and soon they were all crowding around Harry, with Snape just barely managing to not get pushed away. They wanted to shake her hand, hug her, say hello, introduce themselves, etc. It was overwhelming for the young girl to suddenly have so much positive attention.

"Errrr," she stumbled over herself in an effort to back away, face just short of terrified.

"Excuse me," Professor Snape intervened sharply, eyes deadly. "This child is tired, as am I. We will be retiring to our room now."

"Of course." The owner, now behind the rest of the people, nodded politely, handing the woman a key.

Snape took Harry's hand and pulled her up an old set of stairs to their room. When they reached it and closed the door, she let go and sighed lightly.

"Why did they know my name?" Harry asked quietly, voice the tiniest bit tremulous.

"You," Snape started, then paused to think of a better way to phrase it. "You are... an anomaly of sorts in the wizarding world. Your parents were very good, I told you before, so they were targeted. The dark wizard that killed them, though, was aiming for your life. This would have been when you were just over one year, still clear of any scar or other mark. After the dark wizard killed your parents with a spell, he tried the same to you, but... the common theory is that something went wrong. That the spell backfired, or something along those lines. After that, the darkest wizard to live, one who had caused many deaths thus far, disappeared. Your name is recognized as the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, because the best way they can see it is that you were what stopped that wizard."

"But I'm a girl," Harry protested almost silent, making the elder woman read her lips.

"As I've said before, I do not know how to explain that. The most I can say with a surety is that you were born a male, raised as one."

With that, the two climbed into their beds and slept, although Harry laid there a while with her eyes open, trying to figure out what had happened that had made her life so wrong. All she could think of, even trying for another option, was the spell that had backfired; maybe it had been the wrong spell, maybe she had been born with something already messed up inside of her. She didn't know, and it was frustrating. She didn't know anything about magic that could help, nothing. That night her dreams were consumed with nightmares of laughing faces, green flashes, and shadows that whispered she was wrong inside, a mutant, a monster, that she didn't belong.

***:.****｡****. o(****)o .****｡****.:***

The next morning began with a bright sun and an early rise. Professor Snape woke Harry from slumber with a rough shake and they went down the stairs to grab something to eat.

The old man knew better this time than to call attention to Harry, but he nodded his head a bit more than one would usually in greeting. Snape purchased croissants for them both, and was leading Harry to the back exit when she was interrupted by someone calling her name.

"P-p-professor Snape!" a thin, pale man wearing a turban exclaimed, standing up and almost dropping his drink, which still sloshed a good amount out.

"Ah," Snape answered with a well-disguised frown. "Professor Quirrel, imagine the chances."

Harry looked back and forth at them in in confusion, swaying her head just enough to make her scar visible to the other professor.

"Harry P-p-potter?" he stuttered, eyes widening.

"Shhh!" Harry whispered fiercely, not wanting another episode like the previous night.

"It is a pleasure, an h-honor, I'm s-sure," the professor continued anyway.

"Well, Professor," Snape broke in with a forced smile, "we need to be leaving here. Good day."

"I-I'll see you at H-hogwarts, then," he smiled back, a drop of sweat beading on his forehead.

Snape turned Harry towards the back exit again, and both sighed as soon as they were through. Harry smiled slightly at that; she had been as eager to escape as the composed woman in black robes.

"Who was that?" her relief seeped into her tone.

"Another professor. On that thought, I still haven't told you why we're here. Would you like me to?" Snape arched a graceful black brow.

"Ooh, yes please!" Harry burned with enthusiasm. She wanted to learn more about the magical world, and her connections toward it.

"In the wizarding world, there are schools for magic, the most famous one being Hogwarts, where I am a professor, along with that man who approached us. Since you have magic in your blood, you have the opportunity to come to Hogwarts, getting six to seven years of education. It's like what muggles call a boarding school, where you stay for the year and go home on the breaks." Obviously knowing her charge would have questions, the professor paused.

The green-eyed child felt as if she had just been given a gift, and she struggled not to doubt it. The most she had ever gotten for her birthday or Christmas was a pair of socks, or a ten pence coin. In the end, her happiness won and Harry allowed herself to believe Snape's words.

"When am I going?" she questioned, smile brilliant.

"In September, you'll take a train. I'll have to send the ticket later, as I don't have one on me at the moment."

"What kind of things will I need?"

"That's what we're here for, to shop for supplies. First we'll be visiting Gringotts, though."

"What's in Gringotts?"

"The only wizarding bank in the world, run by goblins."

Out of questions, Harry grinned so much her cheeks hurt. Snape started walking again, so she finally looked at her surroundings. The back exit had led to a closed in space, blocked by a tall brick wall Harry assumed connected to the next building. Professor Snape continued straight for it, pulling her wand out of her sleeve. When she was right in front of the bricks, she tapped four times quickly, each on a separate brick. After a small delay, they started shifting, folding over the other bricks until there was a passage wide enough for two large men to pass through side by side.

"Come along," Snape gestured for Harry to follow her through. "This is Diagon Alley, a place where much of a wizard or witch's shopping is done."

"Cool," the child breathed, eyes bright.

Gringotts was all the way down the road, past many shops crowded with their wares. There was an animal place with cages holding owls, rats, cats, frogs, and other unidentifiable creatures. A bookstore called "Flourish and Blotts" was visible, along with a shop displaying cauldrons and ingredients Harry had never seen before. Through one window she spotted a shiny broomstick, with silver numbers engraved in the side. A few boys were gathered to look at it, dreaming of having it for themselves.

She stopped whipping her head to drink in the sight of everything when a shadow was cast over her. They had arrived in front of a tall marble building, with huge bronze doors. Harry gasped in awe, following Snape while looking at this new place. She almost missed the strange looking creature bowing them in.

Inside she was surprised to see another set of doors, this time smaller and silver, with a poem engraved.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

Within those doors were hundreds of goblins sitting at desks that lined the long, grandly furnished hallway. Some were weighing items on golden scales, others were writing with feathered quills, but there were a few that inspected precious gems. At the end, there was an especially big desk with a goblin that didn't look up from his work until they were right in front of him. His eyes were small and beady; he had long pointed ears, an equally long nose, and a wrinkled, pale face. Even his fingers were long and thin and spindly.

If Harry ever had nightmares after this, she imagined the goblins would be in them.

"We are here for Harry Potter's vault," Snape said in a voice that said she was used to being in charge.

"Key?" the goblin asked in a deep voice, fingers stretching out to receive what he asked for. A small golden key was drawn from a black pocket and was dropped into the open hand. "Griphook!" he rasped, drawing Harry's attention to the many goblins shifting in and out of sight, some leading people.

The goblin who had been called appeared swiftly, seeming to defy reason by having speed in what looked a slow stroll. He took the key from the other goblin's hand, looked with glinting eyes at Harry and Snape, then turned to lead them away. Griphook stopped in a dark hall that dropped away into darkness beyond a cart that resembled a roller-coaster. They climbed in, and the only warning Harry received was the goblin's grin before she rocketed away in a squeaky cart with no seat belts; only a bar held them in.

Rocky formations whizzed past, and stalactites made an appearance opposite stalagmites. Harry finally figured out that she wasn't breathing and sucked in a huge breath; everything got better after that, as it often will. She turned her messy-haired head about in wonderment, but she stopped after a cart above hurled down a liquid that looked suspiciously like vomit. That's when she noticed just how far underground they had traveled, though it had only been a few minutes.

The cart jolted to a stop, and Griphook pressed a button that released the bar holding his two passengers from flying out. They got out, and for a second Harry wondered why she had a vault; that was before her breath was taken away in a puff of smoke and opened door. Her vault was piled high with golden, silver, and bronze coins.

"Here," Snape said suddenly, handing her a bag. "Grab some coins to put in it."

"What is all of this?" the green-eyed child questioned while fulfilling her task.

"Money of the wizarding world," the professor said in a teacher voice. "The golden coins are called galleons, equivalent to seventeen sickles, the silver ones, which are equal to twenty-nine knuts, the bronze and smallest ones."

Harry filled the bag and stepped out behind Snape, then came Griphook with the key he had used to open the door. He closed it, then gestured for them to sit inside the cart again. Five minutes later saw Harry and Snape back outside with the bag of money.

"Now what?" the girl asked. She realized how much more comfortable she had become with the older woman.

"Now we go shopping for school supplies. First, your letter." She reached into a pocket and drew out an envelope sealed with a crest showing off an "H", a lion, a raven, a pig with wings, and a coiled serpent.

With the excitement of a child receiving a present, Harry opened it to find two pieces of paper that read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.  
Yours sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

**UNIFORM**

First-year students will require:

1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2\. One plain hat (black) for day wear

3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

_Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags_

**COURSE BOOKS**

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

_The Standard Book of Spells_ (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

_A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

_Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

_Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

**OTHER EQUIPMENT**

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an Owl OR a Cat OR a Toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.

Harry looked up from the letter with a huge grin. Everything was official, leaving her free to hope for something very good in life. It wasn't like she had ever pitied herself or thought her life couldn't get worse, but she knew it could definitely get better. This was something that would do that, with no doubt, and Snape was practically handing it to her on a silver platter.

Before she could stop herself, Harry threw herself against the professor in a hug. She quickly backed away, though, realizing that Snape did not seem the touchy-feely type that would accept such a show of affection. With her head bowed and cheeks flamed in shame, she missed the older woman's sad expression.

"We'll be getting you fitted for your robes first," Professor Snape said briskly. She brushed away the previous incident as if it hadn't happened.

They walked over to a place with a neat cursive sign reading _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_. The door jangled a bell as it opened and a plump witch with a wide smile scurried over.

"How may I help you?" she asked pleasantly. "I'm Madam Malkin. Are you going to Hogwarts, dear?" She faced Harry with dark brown, wrinkled eyes. Not knowing how to respond, the girl just nodded timidly. "Oh joy! There's another one in there already."

The old witch lead them with a maintained smile to the room over, where a pale boy was being sized up by another witch. Snape didn't follow, but stayed in the other room on a waiting chair. Being alone left Harry nervous, and she sincerely hoped she wouldn't goof up in a conversation. Here was a place totally used to wizards and witches, while she had only learned of them the previous day.

"Right here, dear." Harry was put by firm hands on a little platform to be measured beside the other boy. "Now raise your arms..."

Having someone measure you and then start putting a cloth on you and sticking in pins is a very strange feeling, and not much can distract you from it. Harry gave a round of mental applause when the other managed to do so.

"First time going to Hogwarts?" the pale, platinum blonde boy asked in a self-assured voice. It gave him the air of a child that had been spoiled at least slightly.

"Yeah," Harry replied in a similarly strong voice. If it had been a more difficult question, she may have just made up an answer to sound like she knew what she was talking about.

"Mine too. I'm Draco, what's your name?"

"Harry." It took a lot of self-control not to show her nervousness.

"I rather think I'll be in Slytherin, as my whole family has been. How about you?" He did a splendid job of keeping up the conversation (Harry labeled him as a chatty type), but the poor girl had no idea what he was talking about.

"Oh really? Well, I don't know much about that myself, as my family's been all over."

"Even Hufflepuffs? I think that they are a rather weak house, although I suppose Ravenclaw is intelligent. Gryffindor just seems stupid to me. I really would hate being sorted into a house where all the "heroes" come from. Heroes can come from Slytherin as much as Gryffindor, I'm sure, and I plan to prove it. Malfoys have always been in Slytherin, and look at us now; we really haven't done bad at all."

"I guess," Harry nodded slightly, then paused to try and put everything she had just heard together. It sounded like Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Gryffindor were sections within Hogwarts or just the wizarding world in general. She wondered briefly where her parents had fit in. "I don't know much about the different houses, my parents never really got the chance to tell me about them."

"Who are your parents? They can't have done a very good job raising you if you don't even know all about the four Hogwarts houses a month before you leave." Draco lifted a brow and made a half-smile that just seemed awkward.

"That's the thing, they didn't raise me. They died before they had the chance."

"Oh, sorry," the boy apologized in a smooth voice that said he actually didn't know if he should be sorry or was.

"It's okay, I guess. It just meant that I was raised by my only relatives, who have apparently absolutely nothing to do with magic themselves."

"Muggles?" Harry flinched at the term but nodded. "Then you aren't a pure blood?"

Now she was beyond her facade of pretending and totally helpless. "I have no idea. Professor Snape only told me that I was a wizard yesterday because I ran into her by chance."

"Is she here?" Draco's grayish eyes brightened although he tried to hide his excitement with a frown.

"Just out there," Harry nodded toward the waiting/front room.

"Here you go, dear. All done," Madam Malkin gestured for Harry to leave. She was surprised to find that she had already been fitted whilst the other boy continued to require measurement. Perhaps he was just buying more stuff that needed specific measurements robes and hats didn't require.

The old witch brought her back to the front room and informed her that the clothes would be ready to be picked up in a few hours, unless she just wanted them owled. With no idea what "owled" meant, Harry said she would come back later.

Snape stood when she saw Madam Malkin depart, and she started walking out of the door. Her green-eyed charge hurried after, not wanting to be left behind, and soon they were on their way to the other shops.

Books were bought in Flourish and Blotts, potion supplies purchased at the apothecary, and other necessary tools at random stores displaying them. All that was left was a wand, and Snape would pick up the clothes while Harry got one.

She was shown to Ollivanders, and then they parted to accomplish their separate tasks. Harry was not as surprised as she might have been that the store looked antique. Some of the places looked like they hadn't been changed since the day they had been opened.

Inside was a single creaky chair by the grimy window; the counter was empty and showed only a rusty bell and a few sheets of paper. Everything looked as if it came from an era long past.

"Hello?" Harry turned her raven-haired head about, taking in the decorations hanging off the walls and flowers that looked frozen in time.

The man that popped into view next was probably as old as the shop, with white hair and a wrinkled face. His pale, luminescent eyes claimed experience, his nimble fingers looked practiced, and his small smile at seeing Harry said he was gentle.

"Harry Potter," he spoke softly. "I have been looking forward to this day."

Not knowing what else to do, the she went with, "Yep, I'm at that point where I need to buy a wand."

"Yes, I remember the days your parents came to pick up wands of their own. You look like your father, did you know? But you have your mother's eyes... hmm..."

The man wandered back into the room he had appeared from; sticking her head around the door, Harry saw it was full if shelves carrying long, thin boxes. He grabbed some off the shelves as he went along, muttering to himself about things like unicorn hairs, phoenix feathers, dragon scales, and types of wood. When finished, he returned to Harry and introduced himself as Mr. Ollivander.

"Beechwood, dragon heartstring, nine inches, and rather flexible. Give it a little wave," he instructed her after pulling out a smooth wooden rod.

"Excuse me?" Harry questioned as soon as she took it without thinking.

"In your wand hand now, Harry, the hand you write with, wave it." Mr Ollivander made a demonstrative arc with his arm.

Feeling silly, she obeyed with no result other than to have him snatch it away as soon as she lifted her arm.

"I see," he promptly snatched the wand out of Harry's hand. He grabbed another. "Maple, phoenix feather core, seven inches, quite whippy."

The process repeated over and over; she received a wand, waved it, and had it taken away to be replaced by another. Some of the wands had carved designs and a different shape to them, and they were made of familiar and strange woods. A few were eleven inches, although mostly they were seven to nine. Apparently the wands also had a widely spread variety of ingredients, so it was no surprise that there were so many of the boxes. Never before had Harry felt so daunted by the task of buying something.

After another wand was snatched, before she was even able to accomplish an arc, she wondered at the empty air where her right hand had automatically wandered to receive the next wand. Harry looked over with curious green eyes to find Ollivander's creepily pale ones looking ponderously at another smooth box that hadn't been tried.

"I wonder," he said softly, that pulled it out professionally to hand to his customer. "Made of holly, phoenix feather core, eleven inches, very supple."

Harry took it gently to wave; and was shocked witless at a flash of sparks that spit out and lit a frozen flower with purple fire.

"Curious," Mr. Ollivander looked at Harry strangely. "Curious indeed."

"Excuse," she butted in when she couldn't figure what he was talking about, "but what's curious?"

"The very brother of that wand is the same that gave you that scar," he pointed gravely at Harry's forehead. "The same phoenix that gave a feather for that wand gave one other, and that is the feather within the wand of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Could you tell, then?" She wondered softly. "That he would go dark?"

"No. Even now I remember it. Thirteen and a half inches, yew, very powerful, made to do great things. And it did. Terrible, but great."

The door chimed at that moment and Snape entered, face comically grim. Perhaps she had met the blond boy, then. She helped Harry to pay for the wand with seven galleons, then they left. It was almost strange how quickly the tension in the air left with Snape's arrival.

"So now what?" Harry asked outside.

"Now I return you home. You will be sent a letter with your ticket later on, and you can send the owl back to Hogwarts to confirm that you will be attending."

"An owl?" she questioned bewilderedly.

"Ah, I suppose you wouldn't know about that. Owls are the equivalent of the post service."

"That seems weird..."

"That aside, you may notify your guardians as you wish. If necessary, transport may be arranged in order for you to make the train."

"A train?" That seemed rather normal when compared to everything else.

"Indeed."

Snape swished her black robes in a turn and led Harry back to the Leaky Cauldron, and then to a muggle train station. She escorted her all the way to Number 4 Privet Drive, then left her with only a slight nod.

Once alone in front of the house, Harry started to get nervous. Her limbs were shaky; all the magic from the past two days seemed to have drained away. With a gulp, she opened the door and stepped inside.

**_*^•^*_**

**Long chapter! Yay! Er, if you like it, that is...**


	6. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: _I do not own Harry Potter, that credit goes to J. K. Rowling._**

* * *

**BIRTHDAY SURPRISES**

It had been a month or so since Harry had come home from a supposed "friend's" care. She still hadn't worked up the courage to tell the Dursleys that she was going to a wizarding school, not a public one. Imagine what their reactions would have been! Then again, Petunia was getting suspicious. Her lie in their private talk right after wouldn't hold for very much longer.

The date was July 31, a special day for Harry. It was the eleventh anniversary of her birth. Quite an achievement in her mind. Sometimes she had been sure she wouldn't make it that far, but made it she had. Even more amazing was that she had something to anticipate. She could go someplace beyond the reach of her strange relatives, although she wasn't quite sure how much she was nervous, happy, or scared. All three feelings buzzed through Harry's body, but they carried much of the same symptoms.

Petunia woke her niece when morning was only beginning to inhale awakeness, and together they had their annual celebration. Harry couldn't have a real party because she didn't have friends and Vernon and Dudley would likely both have a cow, so her birthday was always something only she and Petunia would recognize. There was no cake, nor presents, but it was the one day of the year that Petunia would answer a carefully chosen question. Later on in the course of the day Harry would also be granted more freedom than usual. Dinner wasn't anything special, but she didn't have to make it. To put it simply, it was her favorite day of the year.

This year, in light of recent happenings, Harry had picked her one question with even more care than the time after a series of strange situations had occurred to her. It was important that she didn't waste this one chance, because Harry wouldn't remember or consider previous questions she had thought of. So it was that the raven-haired child awaited morning with a busy mind in her cupboard. Her green eyes were still open when her aunt gently opened the door, and she was already dressed for the day.

"Good morning Harry," Petunia whispered, taking the child's hand.

"Good morning Aunt Petunia," the girl answered quietly.

The two settled on the couch, cuddled under a blanket the elder woman had brought out. Harry held the thought of how Vernon and Dudley would react to see them like this, enjoying their imaginary disbelief. The secret love Petunia would share with her warmed her heart, even if she didn't have all the answers.

The next part was what Harry had memorized completely. Every birthday of every year, she made sure to remember the question and answer. When she was four, she had asked how come Dudley was treated different from her. The reply had been along the lines of saying it was because Harry's special and lovable qualities had to be hidden, but Dudley's weren't, and so she didn't get the same attention. Now it seemed like what an adult would say to appease a child, but it was still something she appreciated.

Petunia continued to hold Harry's hand in her own, rubbing it warm and smooth, waiting for the child's words. It was a comforting gesture that the green-eyed girl gladly accepted and returned with her other hand over top. With all of their hands piled up, and the blanket pulled over for extra warmth, it was time.

"Aunt Petunia," Harry began hesitantly, second-guessing her choice. "Did you know I would be a witch?"

She looked down at her feet as she said it, so Harry didn't see her aunt's reaction. She only heard a gasp followed by what sounded like a muffled choking. In the silence after she could only think negatively.

_She knew. Or if she didn't, Aunt Petunia knew I wasn't from normal origins. Either way, she knew and hadn't expected me to know. How much is she really hiding from me?_

A hand brushed through the black bangs shadowing Harry's downcast eyes. The long, feminine fingers continued to comb through her hair, nails lightly scratching her scalp. "Oh, Harry," Petunia sighed, seeming somehow helpless.

Harry lifted her eyes slowly to find that Petunia had closed her eyes and was breathing deeply to regain control over herself, attempting to relax her facial muscles. Harry pushed her aunt's hand away and extended her own, smoothing away the creases wrinkling Petunia's forehead with her thumb.

"Harry," she said resolutely, "we need to talk about this with all seriousness." Harry pulled her hand away. "Where were you told that you were a witch?"

"Well, you know that sleepover I had? It wasn't really with a friend, it was with a complete stranger. She said she was a professor at Hogwarts, and that since she had been at the circus she might as well take me shopping for my supplies."

"Hogwarts?" Petunia asked, a barely noticeable film coming over her eyes.

"Yes. And I met a nasty boy when I was being fitted for my robes. He said that there were four sections that you could be in! Imagine how many people will be there, Aunt Petunia. I can't wait to go. Professor Snape said she would send an owl so we could tell the school I'm going. I am, aren't I?"

Harry had gotten so worked up about going to Hogwarts that she had never considered not being allowed to go. She realized just how unlikely it was that Vernon would allow it. Her green eyes traveled swiftly between her aunts brown ones, checking for sincerity as all children do at one point or another. Petunia could only avert her eyes, because she herself was uncertain of the likelihood of Harry making it to Hogwarts.

With that thinking needing to be done, she conveniently forgot about the owl.

A shriek resounded throughout not only the house but the entire sleeping street. It was strangely deep for a woman's throat. Once the victim of some heinous crime ran out of breath, a faint tapping could be heard from the upstairs area of the house. Scratching accompanied it; Petunia and Harry crept slowly up the stairs, checking warily for signs of forced entry.

Just as they rounded the corner of the hallway an angry shout echoed, causing them to jump in surprise. The voice was more recognizable now as Vernon Dursley's. This did make it easier to know where to go, but Harry lagged behind for fear of not making it to her twelfth birthday. She knew how deadly her uncle's rage could be, and she had a funny feeling that it would be directed at her for some reason.

"Vernon?!" Petunia yelled out with a touch of disbelief in her voice.

As Harry peered around the door, she understood immediately. In Vernon's hands was a tightly gripped lamp, positioned somewhat like a baseball bat might be. The snowy white target was trapped in the window, having apparently gotten as far as a leg in before the glass was slammed down on it. Unfortunately, Petunia did not approve and he was in for a little more than an earful.

Taking advantage of the momentary chaos, the little raven-haired girl raced around to free the stuck bird. Her heart went out to it, and she wasn't going to miss her chance. Contrary to her belief that the owl would fly away as soon as it could, it actually landed on her lap, snuggling its head against her chest affectionately. Harry now knew why she had felt she would get blamed. Too well when Vernon turned on her.

"HARRY!" Uncle Vernon shouted, raising a threatening hand.

Harry looked left and right, actually hoping for a second that there was another Harry in the room. Sadly, there was not. The white owl chose this moment to protest loudly, shrieking at Vernon. Though Harry was grateful for the feathered creature's attempts, she knew she was already doomed.

A letter fluttered to the floor, momentarily pausing Vernon's advance. "What is this?" he asked suspiciously.

All three in the room studied the paper carefully before Harry and Vernon both tried to snatch it up at the same time. "It's mine!" Harry yelled as they grappled. She emerged victorious with Vernon hot on her tail as she ran clutching owl and letter to her chest.

"You get back here!" Vernon thundered, red-faced and huffing.

She only ran faster, throwing the front door open and making her way down the cold, misty road. The owl screeched loudly, obviously uncomfortable, and Harry shifted her hold on it to prevent her uncle from tracking her progress; if he even made it to the intersection she turned off at. A good advantage of being small is speed, since you are already used to taking more steps than the average person. A good advantage to having an out-of-shape uncle is that he can't keep up.

The birds of the early morning made their calls, breaking the silence surrounding slapping footfalls every once in a while. There was the harsh chirp of the smaller species, and the rarer message meant to frighten unsuspecting prey right before their sudden demise. Harry broke from the paved road after three turns into a forested area. The leaves around rustled but she didn't worry about the noise this far out. She was certain Vernon wouldn't have made it that far.

The green-eyed child continued to run deeper in, but it wasn't long before she was satisfied with the distance. She finally rested to catch her breath, sitting cross-legged on the slightly wet ground. Harry set the snowy owl down in her warm lap and then unfolded the letter it had carried. Her eyes widened as she read:

_Harry Potter_

_Apologies for late notice, but July 31 is the deadline for the confirmation of your planning on attending Hogwarts. In addition, having realized that you have no means to communicate within the wizarding world, this owl has been bought for your use. Her name is Hedwig, and you can send your letter of confirmation with her._

_Set it up as you want, but make sure to make it out to Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. The owl will know where to go._

_Professor Snape_

Within the letter was also a train ticket, for the platform "9 &amp; 3/4."

Harry looked to the owl, _her_ owl, with a grin. She tore the unused part of the letter off, holding it in one hand while she walked over to a nearby tree and stuck her hand in the hollow that was at the base, hidden from side views with the roots. One would have to look straight on, knowing it was there, to see the hole. In her hand as it pulled out was a black sketching pencil, something Petunia had secretly gifted her with last Christmas. To keep it a secret, Harry had hidden it where she went whenever she wasn't loaded with chores.

Using her lap as the writing surface, Harry began to neatly write her letter.

_Dear Headmaster Dumbledore,_

_I would like to inform you that I am going to attend Hogwarts this year, and I have received my letters along with my ticket already._

_Sorry for the delay,_  
_Harry Potter_

She folded the paper in half, creasing it with her thumb and forefinger, and wrote _Headmaster Albus Dumbledore_ on the blank side.

"Hedwig," Harry tested out the name. She found she quite liked it, thankfully. Obviously the newly dubbed "eleven" year-old couldn't change her owl's name. It had already been given. "Hedwig, I need you to take this to... Professor Dumbledore." Dumbledore seemed oddly ill-fitting to her tastes, however, but there was even less she could do to change that name.

Before the snowy owl perched atop Harry's arm to receive the hastily written letter an uncanny silence swept over the previously chattering forest. A shadow seemed to hang over the trees, blocking what little sunlight had managed to pierce the cloud-cover. Harry breathed deeply, focusing all of her senses on the sudden... emptiness.

It didn't make any sense. Only a massive predator could scare the forest so badly, but the ravenette was sure there was no such animal so close to home. If it had been a wolf, life would go on. Time did not pause for even wolves, and the birds would have continued to sing. The possible prey would either immediately run or freeze and then run, which would cause even more of a ruckus than before the chase.

Harry honestly had no idea what sort of creature could so completely terrify the entire forrest. It just didn't make sense!

To make this more vivid in your imagination, I will give a quick comparison.

If you have ever held your breath for extensive periods (not saying to try it!) then you know that the closer you get to your limit the more the world loses color and sound, even blurring. This black and white state was the forrest after the shadow fell. Then, after, you may know that when you breath everything snaps back so quickly that it flashes. Before the surreal sense of separation can dissipate everything disappears. Your vision and hearing and such take the final step before running back. Even breathing now, the blood takes a little bit to bring the oxygen to your heart, and, though it is not death you are on the verge of (you cannot forcefully cause yourself to asphyxiate by holding your breath), you tip over the edge. For a brief moment, everything is gone. How close to the edge you were when you took the alleviating breath determines how long this period of blankness lasts. Within the forrest it held for an infinite five seconds, holding all living things prisoner.

This was how drastic the emptiness was. And the desperation of any living being struggling to take a breath of air accompanied its ending. Color and sound was restored with the tornado of oxygen, causing everything to stand out before returning to normal.

Harry looked around, searching for the source of the momentary blindness, but nothing appeared off. The birds continued their chirping with restored vigor and the wind swept the mist away once more. Deciding there was nothing she could do here, the girl gave Hedwig the message and began to run back home.

Her thin frame gradually started shaking, so slowly that it was unnoticeable, on her way. Above and in front of her the snowy owl flew gracefully away, in no rush. When within viewing distance of the house Harry slowed down, inspecting carefully what was going on. She had not forgotten the state she left her uncle in, and he wouldn't have either. Telling them about Hogwarts was going to be fun.

Contrary to her expectations of a fuming Vernon and patrolling Dudley, it appeared they had a guest. Twenty feet away Harry ducked behind a bush, looking at the stranger that had appeared. It was a strange stranger indeed. He stood tall in front of the door, patient yet demanding. His hair reached past his shoulder blades, a stark contrast to his deep purple robes. An equally white beard could have easily been tucked into the string that served as a belt. The stranger's face carried many wrinkles along with a pair of half-moon spectacles. Atop his head was the finishing touch of what could only be a wizard's hat, matching his robes in color.

In the doorway was a not-so-imposing figure who looked about ready to faint. His fat cheeks were pale, for once. His eyes, believe it or not, did not immediately seek to lay the blame on a certain "nephew." This alone would be enough to know something was terribly wrong with this situation. But, creeping slowly around to the back, Harry saw her aunt's reaction to the man. And that was when Harry realized she shaking.

Petunia's face was carefully schooled into a smile, and the only thing showing it wasn't real was the absence of eye crinkling. There was only one time where she had worn that expression from what Harry remembered. The time where Dudley had been bullied for being overweight. Dudley had never, ever been picked on again after that. Yeah, Harry could understand why she would be shaking. This stranger was in serious trouble.

Harry lithely ducked around the backyard garden and ever so carefully opened the glass door, not wanting to alert the inhabitants of the house. She watched, her view carrying straight to the front door, as a fluttering wings startled Vernon into saying something.

"What're you doing with that owl?" He finally had some of his menace back. Turns out the owl in question was the exact same as the one the big man had caught earlier. Imagine the green-eyed child's horror.

"This, Mr. Dursely," the old man answered sagely, "is the bringer of very important news." Harry caught a flash of the letter being taken and the owl whooshing away. She strained to see past Vernon, but it was difficult from how far she was. "Ah, it would seem I am not needed here after all," he said in an exaggerated tone of enlightenment. "Well, I do look forward to seeing Harry in school, Mr. Dursely. Good day."

The rotund man spluttered in response, but it appeared the old man had left.

_So that's who Dumbledore is... He could've stayed and told them any way, now I have to tell Uncle Vernon myself._

Harry frowned at that thought. She still wasn't sure how to go about it, but now she had been pushed into action by a stranger not even polite enough to stay and help!

Still, something with the whole situation seemed off; she had not forgotten the incident in the forest. Nor had her uncle forgotten about her disobedience, apparently. Break-time for thoughts was over.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" Vernon bellowed, having recovered.

The black-haired child flinched, knowing there was no chance of escape now. She silently cursed at the Dumbledore character that had dug her grave.

"I can explain," Harry said softly, lowering her green eyes submissively. As much as she hated it, her aunt and uncle would respond better to submission; she just had to bite her tongue and not rebel.

"Then do so boy, my patience will not last." _At least he's honest._

Harry didn't brush aside her bangs to see how her relatives reacted to her quiet words. Her voice faded out at the end, so as not to draw especial attention.

"I am going to a school with witches and wizards like myself, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia. Because it is a special school for particular people, I can get in for free, and because it is a boarding school you would not have to see me except for during the breaks." She carefully appealed to what she knew they would like. "All materials will also be provided."

Vernon's face slowly went red, and then purple, so dark that it was a wonder he was still standing. And then he wasn't. Petunia gasped, clapping her hands to her mouth. Her husband now lied passed out on the carpeted floor.

"Dad!" Dudley exclaimed, coming down from the stairs where he had been eavesdropping. "This is your fault," he yelled at Harry, face contorted in anger.

The blond-haired boy walked slowly towards Harry, intimidating as best he could. Quite successfully, I may add.

"You stupid freak," Dudley began his bullying routine, not even caring it was actually in front of his mother. "Does your life really suck so bad you have to make crap like that up? If you think your life stinks now, wait 'til I'm done with you." He made quite the menacing front. And what did Petunia do at this show of bullying? She tended Vernon frantically.

Dudley dragged the ravenette child by the arms outside, huffing and puffing at the physical exertion. He threw the struggling Harry to the ground and took the moment she was limp to recapture his breath. Then he really started.

The blonde curled his lip in a sneer and pulled his arm back to punch his smaller cousin. It connected with Harry's gut, causing her to choke on the sudden lack of air and flow of spit. The next went straight for her nose, once more snapping her fragile glasses.

That was about when Harry had had enough. She was furious, and she wanted to show Dudley that he couldn't just hit her like that. She was a girl for crying out loud! Wasn't it supposed to be against a man's code to beat up girls? As these feelings built up Harry's face hardened, and Dudley paused in his attack. A flash momentarily blinded the two and any possible spectators, and then came an unlikely sound. From Dudley's mouth came, rather than words, the trumpet of an elephant. He tried again and made the holler of a monkey. Every attempt to speak had similar results, and Harry burst out laughing when it was the squeal of a pig.

Dudley ran back inside to tell his mother, and while Harry was still outside she heard her aunt's high-pitched scream.

**.**

**Boom! Am I awesome or what? So, I think I've been making Petunia seem kind of iffy... But she is a hard character to get at considering all the things that I changed about her. She likes Harry, as her brother's daughter, but obviously there is still all the feelings that she has in canon for Vernon and Dudley. Also, magic took away her brother. So while there is some good feelings there, there is still all the underlying dislike/hate. Thus Petunia not coming to Harry's rescue. And did you like what I did with Dudley? I figured it couldn't be a pig's tail, so I went for something pretty close that I'm fairly sure can be fixed medically. (Dudley might not be talking for a while, though)**

**Well, I'm trying to get ffn up to date with what I've got on Wattpad, so expect fairly quick updates.**


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